


Suddenly Say More

by EA_Lakambini



Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Getting Together, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Texting, but the two idiots made it sweet, this was supposed to be funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EA_Lakambini/pseuds/EA_Lakambini
Summary: Speech-to-text function on smartphones wasn’t one of Crowley’s demonic inventions, but it might as well have been, considering today's events.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Orbital Resonance: GOC2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725724
Comments: 23
Kudos: 136
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Suddenly Say More

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I tried to write it like crackfic, but then the two bois just had to go and be sweet and affectionate
> 
> Prompt: miscommunication.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley was actually a very skillful driver.

He could use all the miracles at his disposition to keep himself and his Bentley safe, but demonic wards, while useful in straightening out dents and scratches, were surprisingly not as effective in preventing the daily wear-and-tear to a car (especially if it was one that was still being used after more than eighty years).

So, while Crowley did drive his car at high speed and was quite fond of making dramatic spins at corners, he did it after giving the Bentley regular preventive maintenance. He also drove in a fairly straightforward manner, not really extending his multitasking at the wheel beyond changing CDs or activating the speech recognition function on his phone.

On this particular day, Crowley was driving from Heathrow Airport, having just finished a quick bit of demonic work that would leave the luggage pushcarts with three normal wheels and an infuriatingly sticky and uncooperative one. As he approached the entry ramp to the main motorway, his phone beeped with an incoming message.

“Read my new messages,” Crowley barked at his phone while swiftly sliding into the lane just moments before a lorry zoomed through the spot where the Bentley had been. The traffic was starting to pick up, and he wanted to get back to Mayfair before the rush hour really got going. Granted, he invented rush hour, so he knew just what time and at what average driving speed he had to maintain to avoid it.

 _“New message from Aziraphale: Hello Crowley perhaps you would like to visit I have some bottles of Le Casematte Faro left over from 1990 do let me know if you will stop by tonight please thank you.”_ This was recited by the phone’s virtual assistant in one straight monotone statement, and Crowley had to roll his eyes. While it was a massive improvement that the angel was actually using the smartphone Crowley gave him, he had yet to learn how to put punctuation in his text messages.

The light at the intersection suddenly turned green. “Uhh yeah, reply: All right, I’ll be at the bookshop soon, give me a sec, yep, send,” Crowley muttered in the general direction of the phone, while quickly shifting gear. He heard the distinctive beep from his phone indicating that the message had been sent, and he flicked his eyes back on the road, merging smoothly onto the M4.

*~*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, over at said bookshop, Aziraphale’s phone lit up with an incoming message, and he smiled as he unlocked the screen to read it. He really was getting better at using these newfangled devices; he hoped that Crowley was proud of him for that.

However, Crowley certainly wouldn’t be proud of how the angel suddenly flung the phone back on to the table with a loud clatter. If anyone happened to look through the bookshop windows at that moment, they would have seen one very flustered man pacing the floor before rushing toward the back of the shop, with a face that looked quite determined, but was still very red indeed.

*~*~*~*~*

“Aziraphale?”

“Oh, you’re here, Crowley! Just… do get settled, feel free to start on the wine; I’ll be with you in a tick,” The angel’s voice came from the direction of the back shelves, where he usually stored his rarest and most precious signed editions. Crowley knew better than to try to go there. He settled on his usual spot on the sofa, pleased to see that the wine bottle was already set out and uncorked to breathe.

Crowley flicked his serpentine tongue out to lightly taste the air, already feeling himself relaxing after a long drive to the city. He could already smell the tannins and the slight berry taste from the wine, mingling with the familiar scent of old paper and polished wood that characterized the bookshop, as well as the scent of Aziraphale – and, _huh._ That was different.

Crowley knew what the angel smelled like; several thousand years of being in love with the only other field agent assigned to the same planet as you kind of had that effect. While the angel very occasionally – every thirty years or so, give or take a decade – tried out new colognes and aftershave, his usual scent remained mostly the same: a hint of ozone, caramel, ink, and something that Crowley just termed as sunlight, because that was how it made him feel. As Aziraphale stepped out from the back shelves, smiled at him in greeting, and went over to pour the wine, Crowley could smell something heavier, almost musky, about the angel.

And, color him surprised, Aziraphale was dressed… differently. Crowley’s throat suddenly felt very dry.

The angel was still in his usual at-least-a-century-out-of-date style, his favorite brogues and cream-colored trousers, but no waistcoat, just his shirt, _which had the top button undone, and the bow tie was hanging loosely around his neck._

Crowley could feel his corporation responding in a very, ah, human manner. _Damn. Damn damn damn._

“You’re looking… rather relaxed tonight, angel,” Crowley said in what he hoped was a very casual manner. “Did I miss the memo?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as he handed Crowley a glass of wine. “I don’t think either of our head offices enforce casual dress days nowadays, my dear. Do you not like it?” the angel inquired. Crowley gaped slightly before remembering himself. “No, no, I didn’t say that. ‘S nice, I could get used to it,” he answered quickly. Huh. He wasn’t used to Aziraphale being _quite_ that forward.

“Good,” Aziraphale replied. He lightly touched Crowley’s glass with his own, before taking a drink of the wine. “Perhaps now is the time for you to start getting used to it,” he continued, walking over to where Crowley was seated, and the demon could distinctly feel the warmth from the angel’s body.

Instead of sitting in his usual armchair near his desk, Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley, shifting slightly so his body was slightly turned towards the demon. Crowley could see the dip of his neck and the shift of his throat as he took another swallow of wine. Aziraphale looked at him over the rim of the wine glass, and he was a luscious vision – golden-white hair illuminated by the soft light from the lamps, eyes of deep blue looking through fluttering eyelashes, wine-stained lips lightly pressed to the edge of the goblet.

Crowley had always thought that it was a good thing _he_ was the one assigned to be the original tempter, because if that were also Aziraphale’s line of work, he would have knocked Crowley out of the competition in a heartbeat.

Something was going on here. Though Aziraphale continued to drink with him (and met him refill after refill), and described his day with his usual enthusiasm – he had apparently gotten his hands on another first edition of John Milton’s _Paradise Regained_ , which Crowley thought was just not as funny as _Paradise Lost_ – his eyes kept looking over Crowley, as if to gauge his reaction. The angel’s fingers also kept alighting on Crowley’s arm, on his shoulder, even on his knee at one point. Each contact was fleeting but Crowley thought he might burst aflame from each one.

“Angel, I don’t even know why you even bothered with that one of Milton’s,” Crowley commented, trying to keep his voice steady. “I mean, come on, the bloke bothered to actually name-drop your prick of a boss, but all _I_ got was ‘subtle fiend’? What a nitwit,” He continued, laughing at the amused expression on Aziraphale’s face.

“Ah, well, I still had to have a copy for my shop, you know, for posterity,” Aziraphale replied as he set down his wine glass on the side table. “And the poem did make me think of you, my dear. _Though I have lost much lustre of my native brightness / lost to be belov’d of God / I have not lost to love, at least contemplate and admire._ ” And Aziraphale smiled at him, and reached out to take his hand.

Oh yeah, something was _definitely_ happening. _Aziraphale was holding Crowley’s hand._ The angel’s hand was warm and soft, gentle yet firm in grip. Crowley wasn’t sure how much wine he had drunk at this point, but he felt it was not implausible that he may have passed out from wine consumption and was dreaming the current sequence of events.

And suddenly, Aziraphale yanked him forward by the collar of his shirt, and Aziraphale’s lips were on his neck while his grip tightened on Crowley’s hand resting on the demon’s thigh, and Crowley’s mind went into blissful shock. He couldn’t restrain a moan from escaping him as Aziraphale gently tangled a hand into his hair, tilting his face up to nip further at his collarbone. He gripped at the angel’s arms, pulling him closer and hissing in pleasure as Aziraphale pressed light kisses into his skin. _I’m dreaming, I am actually dreaming now, oh YES, please don’t let this end –_

And then Aziraphale dragged his other hand _higher_ up his thigh, and – _oh damn,_ Crowley was now incredibly, officially, _very_ turned on.

“Angel, what – “

“Oh dear, am I doing this right? Is this… how I should give it to you, Crowley?” Aziraphale suddenly pulled back, his cheeks turning pink. His hands also pulled away, and Crowley decidedly missed the warmth and weight of them on him.

But at the angel’s hesitation, Crowley suddenly felt off-balance, like he was missing something. “Give what, Aziraphale? What are you talking about?” Aziraphale fidgeted slightly, and in a nervous voice he replied, “Isn’t this what you asked for?”

“Angel, I’m really lost here; I didn’t ask you for anything.” Crowley said slowly, now really confused. _None that I’m aware of, anyway; I don’t think I ever got around to telling you, “why, yes, please, I’m desperately in love with you, so may I please take you out on a date sometime?”_

“Wait, so what did your message _mean_?” Aziraphale yelped loudly, scrambling to dig out his phone from his pocket and pass it to Crowley with a shaking hand. Crowley took the phone from Aziraphale, and unlocked the screen.

On the screen glowed his most recent message to Aziraphale: _Right, be shop soon, give me sex_

Crowley now wondered if it was possible for immortal entities to spontaneously combust out of sheer embarrassment. Aziraphale was very likely having similar thoughts.

Crowley’s eyes widened in shock. “Go- Sata- _Someone,_ angel, no! I said to give me a sec, a _second_! To get to the bookshop! I didn’t ask you to give me… _that_!” Aziraphale made a little squeak of dismay, and buried his face in his hands. Crowley could feel the mortification spilling off the other man in waves as he snatched the phone from Crowley and flung it onto the sofa.

“I’m ever so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed, oh, my goodness, Crowley, I really should have known better; do forgive me, let’s just forget about this, please – “ Aziraphale stammered out, quickly standing up and beginning to stumble away from Crowley, and oh _no_ , there were tears in the angel’s eyes now, and Crowley just couldn’t have that.

Crowley stood up and quickly reached out to take Aziraphale’s hand. The angel couldn’t even look at him, seemingly very interested in his shoes at the moment. “No, angel, it’s not your fault, stupid phone can’t even get basic speech-to-text right, nothing to do with you,” Crowley murmured, while rubbing soothing circles onto Aziraphale’s hand.

“Yes, but I _assumed_! As if you would be interested in anything like that with me!” Aziraphale cried out, his hands shaking in Crowley’s grip. Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. _Oh, angel. Yes, I’m interested. Incredibly, frustratingly, and embarrassingly so._ He had to set this right, _now_.

“Aziraphale. I’m pretty sure you noticed that I was _very_ much interested. How could I not be?” Crowley said, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He reached up to take off his sunglasses and tuck it into his breast pocket; this felt like one of those moments where he knew they had to converse eye-to-eye. Aziraphale looked at him with an uncertain, almost fearful look in his eyes, and Crowley felt his heart twist painfully.

Aziraphale stammered, “My dear boy, I thought, I hoped… Well, I worried that I was far too late, and that you were only interested in me for this, but I would still want to give you that, so long as I could – “

“Aziraphale, no, no, _no,_ ” Crowley interrupted, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, trying to get out the words that he wanted to say, words that he’d carried inside him and agonized over and bitten back for several thousand years. “Angel, yes, I’ve wanted _that_ with you, but that’s not – I mean, it isn’t only – listen, Aziraphale. I’ve… I’ve loved you for ages.” And there it was, out in the open.

Aziraphale’s eyes, which had been frantically looking anywhere but at him, suddenly settled on him, and began to shine. A glowing smile crept over the angel’s face, and Crowley thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. “Oh, Crowley… you are the dearest and most precious to me,” Aziraphale breathed out. “I do love you, and I _want_ you so.”

Crowley shut his eyes then, keeping still, trying – and failing – to keep from grinning stupidly. He had thought that this moment would _never happen_ , or at least, it would be something grand and passionate, but apparently silly and simple and sweet was the way it would go. It had always been, somehow, with Aziraphale.

Crowley leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. “Angel, this _really_ wasn’t how I planned to let you know, but I’m not complaining. But I just want to be very clear about it, this time. May I?” Aziraphale laughed lightly, nodding as a fond smile curved those beautiful lips, and Crowley couldn’t resist any longer.

Crowley closed the space between them, and gently kissed Aziraphale. The angel’s lips were soft, and he tasted of red wine and honey and crushed blackberries. Crowley could feel Aziraphale smile against him. And then the angel kissed him back, and Crowley knew he understood.

This was a way he could explain how he really felt, how he had always felt about the angel, and there would be no mistranslations this time around.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I had to cut it there! I was running out of time to meet the daily deadline and I couldn't finish the sexytimes  
> Maybe after this month I can get back to it and write an NSFW continuation hahahuhu
> 
> Thanks for dropping by!


End file.
